


Entrenched

by Alt_reaYoon



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, M/M, Trench Warfare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alt_reaYoon/pseuds/Alt_reaYoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark looks at them, looks at Sebastian, and wishes they were anywhere but here (he is the only one); in which Sebastian is new and bright-eyed and innocent, Mark is anything but, and there is war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entrenched

**Author's Note:**

  * For [larascasse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larascasse/gifts).



> Originally posted [here](http://understeers.livejournal.com/7636.html)
> 
> Special thanks to bulletthestars for beta-ing again!

  


  
Mark first met Sebastian at the assignment of recruits.  
  
He didn't know what of think of him. Helmet way too large, clothes way too baggy, eyes way too bright. If Mark had squinted, the rifle would have looked to be more than half the size of the boy, and there was no way he would have believed that Sebastian could have used the weapon. The rest of the new soldiers looked exactly the same, and the innocence they exuded was something he doubted he'd ever had, even when he had first joined the army. Jenson, standing next to Mark at attention of a sort, snorted in derision and disbelief, and he couldn't help but feel the same.  
  
There was no way those boys would be able to survive battle.  
  
(It was not like Mark and Jenson had a choice, though; they weren't commanders, they were just soldiers who had survived long enough to be able to bear the blood and pain and suffering around them, hard-eyed and jaded; who were the lucky few to survive the bloodbath that killed most of their company a week ago. They didn't make the decisions, for if they did, those boys would have been sent home immediately.)  
  
The entire troop of wide-eyed boys was naturally assigned to them. Before they left for the camp, the commander took the veterans aside and mumbled something about not getting attached.  
  
Mark said he wouldn't.

  


  
\--

  


  
They were assigned to the trench.  
  
It was supposedly the most secure area of the battlefield, or so the commander had said. Shielded by barbed wires, they'd wait for the enemy to appear, and after that it was shooting and reloading and hoping that no soldier of your own army would stupidly attempt to run back to camp.  
  
(The commander doubted that the enemy would make it that far; Mark wasn't as sure, but he'd kept his comments to himself.)  
  
It was just as well that they were here, though. Mark and Jenson had watched them around the camp on the first day, as they'd settled into their bunks and received their day's rations. They stuck together like leaves of the same branch almost immediately after leaving the bunks, looking down as the older, more experienced, soldiers stared and conversed in hushed voices. Mark understood both sides; that it wasn't common for new recruits to be sent out this far across the border, but being stared at like fresh meat was unsettling. He had experienced both before, and he knew the other soldiers did too, but constant fighting had put them all on edge; any feeling of sympathy for new soldiers would have been squashed.  
  
They would all be like that eventually, Mark thought, as much as he didn't want them to be.  
  
So the trenches would work for them, as a place away from the other soldiers. Mark didn't know why he cared so much.

  


  
\--

  


  
The first time he'd talked to Sebastian was behind the same set of barbed wires.  
  
The sound of fighting was far off then, and Mark rested his rifle on the ground, letting his eyes droop for a split second. He was so tired, physically and mentally; of the fighting, the tension, the war and life in general - it was in tatters before the war even started, and he let himself get swept in the wave of the war when it shredded the remains even further.  
  
Even when the war ended, and if he was still alive to see it, he had nothing left.  
  
He was broken out of his reverie by movement in his peripheral vision. Startled, Mark whipped his head and gun to the side, causing a yelp from the younger soldier next to him as the barrel of the rifle hit him on the nose. Mark mumbled an apology, pulling back his gun, then noticing-  
  
"You're trembling."  
  
Sebastian glanced at him once, shifted his weight slightly, "I am not."  
  
Mark sighed, guessed that the boy was one of those with a defensive attitude that most commanders would hate, and decided not to engage. The two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence; Jenson had paired off with another recruit somewhere further down the line, and there wasn't a need to talk.  
  
(Mark wouldn't admit that he was a little worried about the blonde next to him, whose defensiveness probably stemmed from a rough life and a need to prove himself. It struck too close to home.)  
  
Somewhere down the line, someone sneezed.  
  
Sebastian jumped. The gunshot of the rifle was deafening to Mark's ears, and the entire company lowered their heads further into the trench, almost as if they were trying to move further out of view. The sounds of fighting continued in the distance; had they been any closer, Mark was positive someone would have come running, ally or enemy, and all hell would have broken loose.  
  
"Are you out of your mind?"  
  
Sebastian glared at him for a bit, then looked away, "I am not, thank you very much, and it's not like they heard anyway."  
  
Mark rolled his eyes, "So why don't you shoot another tree, and send the whole army running here like a flock of headless chickens?"  
  
Sebastian mumbled some half-hearted apology, finger staying wisely away from the trigger, and Mark rubbed his eyes tiredly.  
  
(In another life, if anything else like that happened, he was going to have a heart attack. But this wasn't the other life he'd wanted, and his survival instincts wouldn't let him be shocked by a random shot like that.)

  


  
\--

  


  
It was on the second day of fighting that someone broke through the line.  
  
A friendly burst through the trees first, nearly tripping over the roots; he was quickly followed by the rest, and all hell _really_ broke loose.  
  
Mark deftly brought down the first two soldiers that appeared ahead of him, ducking down to avoid the bullets they'd aimed haphazardly at his direction. The enemy soldiers were more concentrated on the left flank, Jenson's, but he couldn't go to help, not when infantry burst through the foliage in ones and twos and he had to bring them down. He remembered that another soldier was supposed to be with him, but the rush of blood cancelled out everything besides the enemy ahead.  
  
Then the ones and twos became threes and fours.  
  
He was a good shot, and he knew it, but when the enemy numbers increased suddenly, he knew that there was no way he was going to be able to stop the wave himself. When there was a split second's lull, he turned to the side-  
  
Sebastian was frozen.  
  
Not literally, but the blonde certainly wasn't moving. He'd been staring ahead at the enemy as they appeared, finger finally on the trigger at the correct time, but no shooting. His trembling from earlier had increased to full-blown shaking, like a leaf in the storm, and Mark wanted to jerk him out of his stupor, but the threes and fours, and the fives and the sixes-  
  
(He had then realised that the right flank wasn't protected well at all, having decided that it would be a much tougher place to break through due to the terrain; but the enemy had realised their weak spot, and they were closing in, and fast.)  
  
A line of seven appeared, and he methodically took them down as he had been trained, one and two and three down, followed by four and five and six; Mark moved back as fast as he could, not fast enough-  
  
Seven stopped dead just before the barbed wire, and collapsed over it, dead. His dead eyes stared blankly ahead into Mark's face, slack fingers dropping the gun in his hand. Mark hadn't remembered pulling the seventh trigger-  
  
Oh.  
  
Sebastian tossed his smoking rifle to the side, and promptly threw up.

  


  
\--

  


  
Mark managed to drag Sebastian out of the trench when reinforcements finally appeared.  
  
The blonde was still retching, dryly, for his rationed lunch had already been forced out the first time. Mark carefully deposited him next to the bushes, squatting down next to him as Sebastian bent over, eyes rimmed slightly with tears. Tentatively, Mark rubbed his back, slightly awkward at first, but more comfortingly when Sebastian coughed.  
  
When Sebastian's breathing had finally slowed, Mark curled an arm around his shoulders, "Can you stand?"  
  
Sebastian nodded mutely, rubbing at his eyes. Mark still had to support some of his weight though, as Sebastian's legs had threatened to give way; he'd let the blonde lean into him as they slowly made their way to his bunk.  
  
Sebastian pulled his knees up once he sat down on his bunk, letting his chin settle between his knees. Mark was torn between worry and uncomfortable, at the slightly vacant look in Sebastian's eyes, and at the warning he'd been given a few days ago.  
  
_Don't get attached._  
  
Mark shifted a little from left to right, decided to leave and was thinking of a nice way to phrase it when Sebastian murmured, in a voice still hoarse from the vomiting, "Does it ever get easier?"  
  
"What? The killing, the violence or the blood?"  
  
"All of them," he sighed, rocking slightly. Mark didn't know how to handle rocking, but he still had no idea how to leave politely, so he'd dropped on to the bottom bunk as well, ducking to avoid getting hit by the top bunk.  
  
_Don't get attached._  
  
"Sometimes it does."  
  
"Did it for you?" Mark stared ahead, took in the question, understood it, dissected it.  
  
He looked once at Sebastian's blank expression, which barely hid a layer of panic from bubbling over at the thought of _everything never being 'okay' again._  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Sebastian let his answer permeate the air between them for a while. Mark took it as a cue to leave, and he would have mumbled something about checking up on the frontlines, but-  
  
"Can you stay?" Mark tilted his head in surprise, stared at the hand grabbing his wrist, and Sebastian flushed slightly, "I-I don't feel like being alone right now."  
  
_Don't get attached. Don't get attached. Don't-_  
  
Fuck it.

  


  
\--

  


  
(Sebastian let go of his wrist as Mark sat back down on the bed, relaxing visibly; they didn't touch, not anymore, but the silence…  
  
The silence was comforting, and that was enough.)  
  
---


End file.
